If it should ever come to pass
by Lil' Monk
Summary: With Rukia rescued and Aizen's treachery exposed, Soul Society relaxes in the lull before sending the band of merry invaders back. In the midst of it, Byakuya finds himself reminded of wounds and a dratted demon cat. But what does Yoruichi remember?


**Disclaimers: **No monies made off this exercise of imagination.

**A/N:** Have finally caught up to the current Bleach chapters, and so far the mangaka hasn't pulled any what-the-heck-was-that surprises. Looking back at the experimental Byakuya-Yoruichi fic I wrote in 2005 and classified as AU in light of the manga chapters that eventually came out, my mistakes in "Tag" make me chuckle. What-if was a great learning experience, and I gained a dear friend. I somehow cannot pry myself away from these two characters (and believe me, I've tried), given all the open-ended possibilities. Maybe I'll succeed in escaping this time. Don't be lazy, improve! So in trying to stick to canon and toeing a line without contradiction… Evolution, eh? I hope so.

ETA: Whoops, nearly forgot disclaimers. And part of my lines were eaten in the first upload. Seems the website doesn't like some formats. Hm.

**Your hand, and mine-**

This was getting ridiculous.

If he had to put up with the odd moods, quick obedience and muted boisterousness from his vice-captain any longer, Kuchiki Byakuya was contemplating bankai-ing him back into normality. Again. Whether it had to do with Rukia, the vagrants who were currently recuperating in the Court of Pure Souls or something else, the situation was intolerable. The sixth-division captain wanted to be pestered on a daily routine by Renji's habit of simply being Renji, rather than be subject to- Well, whatever all those strange looks meant. And today, he did not want to stay quarantined in a room of Unohana's headquarters and in bed, awaiting another tense visit from his vice-captain. Once a day was enough!

But what was this? After telling Rukia about Hisana, the burden lifted from his soul was supposed to be liberating. Kurosaki Ichigo doing what he could not do was supposed to be added relief. Or perhaps, it was because Kurosaki Ichigo had done what he could not do, thus weighing him down. Those friends Rukia had met in the mortal world, and who had chosen to risk their lives by coming here for her only underlined that sorely. Combined with responsibilities, family politicking within the clan, self-confidence shaken- How was he to treat Rukia? Their interaction was still a little awkward, both sides obviously uncomfortable in the thaw of relations and too polite to mention it.

Watching omnipotent elegance as calm and cool as a crystal spire, no one would ever have thought that inner Byakuya did not always match outer Byakuya. Plagued by doubt? Blaming himself? Ruing his status in Rukongai? There had always been envy for Renji and Ichigo because they could get Rukia to open up so easily and act her age, as opposed to her tightly folded self around him. That was his fault. Caution and decorum had been burned into him with time. Fifty years was significantly lengthy, but the pain of looking at her and remembering Hisana was finally gone. Perhaps, it was time to… let go.

Shaking his head, he realised his feet had carried him to the headquarters of the eight division. Why? Stopping a few paces from the door of Kyouraku Shunsui's office, the faint imprint of various powerful reiatsu signatures congregating there was- An interesting mix.

"Hahahahahaha- OUCH! That's so cold, Yoruichi. You didn't even allow me to express how gorgeous you look in the-"

"Maybe if you weren't so hands-on with her about it- Er, Soi Fong, you don't have to glare at Shunsui like that-" Splutters of mirth were interrupted by a bout of dry coughing.

"Ukitake, this is revenge, right? You used kidou-based ESP- Relax, Soi Fong! It's pretty, only, er, I'm not used to the colours you chose-"

"Luckily, you didn't stay, eh? Fifty more years and Yama-ji would most likely have drafted you into the Zero Division. Then you can't wear such a gown!"

"…"

"Shunsui!"

"My, my, and leave Kisuke? Who'd get him out of- Wait, where are you going?"

Byakuya almost missed a seething whirlwind flash-stepping swiftly out of the office. As it was, she was headed in the opposite direction and did not even glance back. It would not be surprising if the air was hastily parting before a ball of fury. The remaining female sounded bewildered by her response to that last comment.

"Huh? What did I say?"

"Yoruichi…"

"I know, Juushiro. It's just… Things will be easier when I leave."

"My, my, you know that's not true. Your absence was sorely felt. Just ask Juu- OW!"

"SHUNSUI!"

"No fighting! You two are supposed to be my seniors! What happened to all that wisdom and age nonsense?"

The scrape of wood on wood could be heard. There had been a shift in the mood after Soi Fong had left, less stiff and more casual.

"You had plenty of it when we watched Yama-ji interrogate you. Fortunately, he didn't have you arrested. Besides, I wonder… about Shinji and er, Lisa and the rest… how are they?"

"We've lost contact. They are lying low, but should soon surface because of- Thanks to Aizen, a reunion is definitely on the cards." There was a pause. "You will see h- them again, I promise."

Shinji? Lisa? The first name sounded vaguely familiar. Where had he heard them before?

The pause was interrupted by the screeching sound of wood skidding off wood, followed by the bang of a heavier object hitting the wall and a spike in one of the reiatsu.

"Woah, calm down. Or I can't let go. You were the one who said no fighting-"

"DAMNIT-SHUNSUI-WHEN-YOU-HUG-SOMEONE-WATCH-YOUR-HANDS! LET GO OF ME, JUUSHIRO-"

"You hugged me first! Ah, still possessing such a lovely kick. That was worth it, for your B-3 trademarks…"

"My, my, so dangerous. Shunsui, could you please stop tempting her to kill you?"

For a moment, tension held its breath, and then the room was booming with laughter. Their interaction was overflowing with easy intimacy and a rare synchronicity, leaving the unintentional eavesdropper rather embarrassed but reluctant to tear himself away.

"It's great that my two seniors here haven't changed. Alas-"

"We're looking forward to a reunion of sorts. Past and present forging a new bond for the future-"

"Shunsui, ever considered a second career as a slogan master? If you come to earth, you could work in advertising. Or maybe a model talent scout-"

"Yoruichi, we'd rather have all of you back."

There was a sigh. "Juushiro, you know that's not possible. Besides… let's wait and see after the war. And now I have to go pacify Soi Fong. We're leaving tomorrow! You rascals try not to get into too much mischief, alright?"

"Maybe we can go drinking tonight! C'mon, Juushiro, it'll be fun. Since it's so unfortunate that you can't drink yet, we'll drink on your behalf. You can drink tea on our behalf. How's that?"

"Drinking again? Shunsui-"

"You two work it out and let me know! In the meantime, I have captains to catch!"

Captains? Byakuya left, flash-stepping to return to his division headquarters. Halfway there, he stopped and sighed inwardly. It was irritating to be reminded that one of the few he could not shake off, was-

"You seemed so willing to stay, why hurry off?"

"The business of captains is none of your concern, outsider."

"Talking out of your league really is a habit of yours. Tsk."

_Wait, is she-_ Registering the disturbance in space, he whirled around and flash-stepped instinctively. One pale hand barely missing a darker wrist, they went past each other. Glancing back, the piece of pink chalk drooping from her fingers was noted. Narrowed eyes widened.

Arms crossed, hair settling against sleeved shoulders, the kimono over black leggings was carelessly done up with a thin obi in a simple knot, and it was clear that… the current second division captain did not possess much fashion sense.

A pineapple-yellow network of branches wove its way down from hip to ankle on either side, ending either in feathers or leaves. The result was crooked-looking claws sprouting from the main shoot, and that horrendous shade of morose purple! Just! Did! Not! Match! Even the coy gleam of gold interwoven into the cloth to form bubbles at the hems did not improve things. It took all his years as a noble to stop the lips from twitching. Thankfully, he wasn't looking at her face. But it was not wise to have the back turned to that one. So he-

"What's so funny, Byakuya-bo? Ah, you're as bad as them. "

This time, he was prepared to intercept her second attempt at marking his kenseikan with the chalk. His wrists blocked hers, and any passers-by could be forgiven for thinking the two were about to start some odd cultural dance from Earth. Knees and ankles at an impasse, one wrist at his chest and the other just above his forehead, it didn't stop him from eyeing her in an unfriendly manner. Damn that fiendish grin. But she hadn't exerted any real effort yet. And why was she smiling?

"Not bad. You might surpass me in another century."

"You severely over-estimate yourself."

Lazy coolness of her appraisal was irksome. Eyelids were lowered to conceal any minor changes in pupil size, which could easily be mistaken for demureness. But not to those like him, who knew what it meant. That calculating mind was analysing, ready to twist the situation to her advantage. And use others to any extent for a means to the end, regardless of the casualties.

Her back turned on him was- The heat that surged from somewhere inside was surprising. Suddenly he was a trainee again who had not yet entered the academy, frustrated and annoyed by the older prodigy from a clan that he had been strictly ordered not to lose to.

"Don't over-exert yourself. Every division needs their captain, since three are gone."

Was that pity? He couldn't tell, and he did not care. How dare she give him orders, when she had no clout! She was ridiculous to feign concern. Annoyance flared into an anger roasting his innards.

"Stop running away. We can settle it. **Now.**"

His rival did not look back. Casually strolling off, her answer became as brief as her exit.

"Then keep up."

Everything was a blur, their speed swift enough to make most others wonder if ghosts were being imagined. Buildings thinned out, people lessened, trees thickened, grass tapered away to ground, greenery shrinking away to- A wasteland pitted with craters of varying depth and sizes. Black, crumbling sediment and the smell of ash was a strong indicator that nothing would grow here for quite some time. Deep troughs overlapping in the earth were further indication of combative destruction being the plough. There was a very large circle seared into the ground, deader than anything else here.

She was crouching down, one hand pressed against the soil. Her back was to him again. As he caught his breath, the other ran her palm gently back and forth over loose dirt.

"Yama-ji was fighting Ukitake and Kyouraku, and I was close to interrupting. But then that announcement came. Luckily, we got to Aizen and the others in time."

Her voice was hushed with an unknown oddness. Byakuya was curious. What made her think she was capable of interrupting such a battle? The first division captain's fire-based skills were the most powerful in Soul Society, especially when he put up a barrier. He had never seen her release her soul slayer. The only few possibilities of getting through involved equally powerful reiatsu, or kidou in the level nineties-

"But before I go on, let's get this out of the way."

"You talk too much. First blood wins."

"Oh? You seemed so eager to chat about old times, when we met at the White Tower of Penitence for Ichigo."

Yoruichi sprang to her left, barely dodging an unsheathed Senbonzakura. That maddening grin was back on her face, reminiscent of the times she took his hair ribbon/belt/scarf and mocked him before disappearing. Squatting on her haunches, wrists dangling limp over both knees, her reminders only served to incense him further.

"You used to like talking cats, didn't you?"

Not when they transformed to mentally scar him for life, damnit! Byakuya was not keen to remember the first time he'd stumbled across a purring black cat in West Rukongai's twelfth district that refused to leave his hair alone. But the claws had been gentle, and his hair was so much smoother after the combing. Eager to keep it, he had run all the way home with the feline in his arms, only to be greeted by his grandfather at the gate with a most peculiar expression. Hastily bowing and greeting the captain politely, he had scooted off to his room, whereby the cat spoke. And it told him something funny about his grandfather, which made him laugh until his sides hurt. But when he'd gone to take a bath, it had disappeared.

"Not when I make you vanish."

Anybody ranked below a vice-captain would find the shyunpo employed by these two dizzying. Whizzing towards and around and past each other, they resembled chess pieces in flux. Vicious punches and lethal jabs were parried by swift hands and restless feet. Dodging was an art form here. The only thing others might be able to follow was the direction of the conversation. And in this instance, Yoruichi answered him as she always had, with a question.

"When did you become so bitter?"

A brutal slice nearly shaved some hairs off Yoruichi's ponytail. She might have been tempted to let him give a haircut and make things much cooler, but chances were her head would roll as well. The gleam in dark eyes burned with hostility, and was reflected in the tautness of his frozen expression. He really was deathly serious. It would be insulting if one didn't reciprocate with some measure of equality. The time for teasing was past. He had grown wiser, refusing to give one time to grapple with and disarm him. But he was so stubborn, not even trying-

"You know nothing. Stop spouting rubbish."

She was going for the knuckles? Blocking a high kick and flash-stepping to avoid a leg sweep perfected by street urchins, a close encounter was narrowly avoided between pink chalk and nose. Was Yoruichi trying to force him to use the skills she had taught? It was futile.

"Byakuya-bo, know how kittens are taught a lesson?"

Stupid demon cat! He would teach her a lesson! Punish her trickery for visiting him once every week for a few months, then making a complete fool of him by transforming in his bedroom! Taking his haori! Leaving him dumbstruck! Sending it back later by a servant of the Shihouin household with a note, telling the ridiculous lie to his grandfather that he'd lost it when asking her to tutor him! His answer was to push himself to the limit, while limiting himself. And he threw her evasiveness back at her.

"Do you really presume to beat me with this level of shyunpo?"

_No, Byakuya, I don't._ The pompous man was obviously trying to piss her off. But memories of the boy who had laughed so loudly at her stories stayed her hand. A boy Shihouin Yoruichi was determined to find again. A boy whose innocence she had not expected to miss, in a world where reality destroyed certain truths only found in such a state. For that, she had made a vow to help Ichigo. For his innocence was still intact but his path was much darker than this Kuchiki, fraught with pain for the limits he had yet to discover and the deaths he would have to cause when he did not want to. So much like Kisuke…

What was this? Byakuya was mesmerized by the speed she was using around him, crisscrossing everywhere and evoking echoes of Kurosaki Ichigo's bankai. Her flash-stepping was now beyond what Senbonzakura could follow, and- Blow between ribs driving out breath- The scenery upended, tumblingskytotheground-

A pinprick grazed his left thumb and composure was knocked out of him by the landing, rather than a kimono-clad woman settling cross-legged on his chest.

Indignation faded away to annoyance, as black animosity glared into yellow ambivalence. She was once again as readable as a sheet of blank paper. Her gaze drifted down to a point above his stomach, and then back up again. But there was nothing playful, teasing or mocking in her manner. Before he could take greater offence, she was getting off him. Standing up, the somber tone was no match for the gentleness in it.

"I am sorry for your loss."

Byakuya had the feeling she was not talking about the fight, but rather- And he did not want to hear it. Drawing himself into a seating position, he was about to rise when she continued further away.

"Strange, isn't it… We make choices hoping to be right for others. Regardless of the outcome, it is still possible to overlook something crucial. Being cruel, to be kind, but- Rather… Hm, what am I trying to say…"

His tormentor was definitely not being logical. Arms hanging by the side, there was more life in the shifting sand grains at her feet. She was looking into the distance, musing abstract and tapering into a murmur that gave the urge to squirm.

"My choice made her so bitter; how do I undo it?"

Byakuya had to strain his hearing to capture that last sentence. He wondered if she was still talking to him. He blinked. He had never seen this side of Shihouin Yoruichi before. Wasn't she the manipulative actress? He did not want to think about the respect accorded to her by too many, back when he was not even an official shinigami. Confusion was his friend, because it kept him calm. From what little he could see of her face, was it... could that be… regret? Before he could be sure, it was gone. The alien was gone; the antagonist had returned.

"It is natural for you to reject my teachings. But Rukia is your sister. Fighting for another chance should be treasured. The moments together are for that. Eventually, there will be none."

Where was the brashness, the domineering attitude of a genius commander who was adept at putting two and two together? Her attempt at empathy was grating. This situation was absurd, yet Byakuya could not bring himself to laugh. The Shihouin clan leader displaying anything but what she was supposed to, made reality discomforting. He was on his feet, fingers flexing ever so slightly, but still suppressed by- What was it?

"Ukitake and Kyouraku were lucky to get a second chance. What I'm trying to say is…"

He did not want to hear her finish. In her presence, he was a shadow of- Her shadow. Chasing the shadow from her sun, unable to blot out any of the unique warmth she shared with the likes of Kyouraku Shunsui, Ukitake Juushiro and Urahara- Even now, he could not defeat her. And she was talking down to him. His mouth was flooded with the taste of salted limes. The stinging tang fizzled all the way into a deeper niche, a segment of the soul that he detested acknowledging.

"Temper arrogance and what you find might be-"

"You're one to talk, Shihouin Yoruichi."

The rawness of his rancor made her turn to face him. Yellow eyes were large, reminding him of an owl caught in candlelight. He advanced closer, until he could reach out and shove her if he wanted to. His features were placid, yet the voice was anything but.

"Disregarding others' feelings, you dare to lecture me? You betray trust with repeated trickery. Few trust as easily as that girl with the flower pins. And you thought it amusing, demon cat. You can be a condescendingly arrogant bitch without trying!"

His honesty was brutally flattening. If she did not have two feet planted squarely, she might have been felled. Yoruichi clamped her teeth together to make sure her mouth was shut, in case she was gaping. She was torn between the urge to hit him and veering off. Kuchiki Byakuya using expletives was an anomaly. Kuchiki Byakuya verbalising livid resentment was- Did he hate her? Yes, she had teased him repeatedly, but betraying trust? What? Why couldn't he be like Ichigo or Kaien, ever taking serious offence where she intended none? Had her feline transformation been so harrowing? What was he really sore about? His vivid loathing was a poison arrow through her spine.

"I will surpass you, and knock you off the perch you don't deserve."

_I should have surpassed you by now! A hundred years should have- You were supposed to have decayed in power! I… Yoruichi-sama, why didn't you take me along? Why?_ Why did she think of Soi Fong now? Why… for what reason had Soi Fong been chasing power? It sizzled like hate, but all had become clearer with the passing days. Betrayal. Perceived betrayal by the commander valued beyond words that her successor wouldn't utter. So what did Byakuya think she had done, warranting his hatred? Damn him for plaguing her with question marks!

"It seems… our idea backfired. Your grandfather thought that in order for you to get stronger and fulfill your potential by willingly pursuing the goal of surpassing someone, and from what I knew of your clan… All he wanted to do was relieve you of the pressure and find a compromise. We didn't think of-"

There was a sigh. She was concentrating on a spot near his feet. Lower lip caught between white teeth, her stance was not contradicting him. And the finish was almost lost in the murmur. "I'm sorry."

It was apparent now that somewhere in the past, she had stung more deeply than his pride. Turning away and thinking of two grandfathers, hands shifting behind the back to link loosely, Yoruichi stared at a giant pile of ash. Where had she gone wrong? _I failed, grandfather._ _Grandfather, I- Yoruichi, what will you give him? You promised him a lovely birthday present that would endure, so what will you give to a protégé you adore?_ Remembering her grandfather's query now was surprising. She had not- What could she give? What had he wanted? What did he want? Would he even want anything from her, given all the refusals? They stood at opposite ends.

Friendship? Understanding? _Not when I make you vanish. _

Opposites. Sadism was countered by altruism. Trickery reversed by honesty. Adjust the balance so the scales were equal. At the very least, she could try to make his perceptions more comfortable for himself. And then there would be an end. He was no longer a child. Hopefully, he would have the patience to listen for a while longer. Should the bitterness endure, then it was really beyond her, and her grandfather would be right. _You don't know what holds the sky and the sea together, do you?_ _When you do, that is all you need to live by._

"A grandfather cat once asked a kitten what she wanted to give a boy for his birthday. The kitten valued the boy's friendship, and pondered for days. She had teased and tutored him amongst other things, but never meant to hurt him. Then something happened, and it seemed there could be no answer. When she resolved to act on her decision, they were no longer in the same world. Many years passed, before they met again. And she realised that perhaps, there was no way that gift could be conveyed. So she settled on granting him a wish."

From that first line, Byakuya was unable to scorn, rooted to the spot by memories that had been rosier and less thorny than this moment. She seemed to find his scarf most interesting. It was that same odd intonation she had used, when wondering aloud about illogical things. Unhurried, lilting, a gentle caress like paws in his hair roughened with fur, he had forgotten her storytelling ability. But he could not forget the disappearance of her cockiness, when she confessed about her and his grandfather's plan. Neither could he forget the deferent tilt of her head, or the sadness framing her face in contemplation before embarking on this tale. Her melancholia bore a shaky imbalance into him, sharper than any blade.

A muffled sound brought him to his senses. Was she shuffling- No, she was taking a step backwards. And another step. And another. Without stopping her story. And the same smile had resurfaced, but was oddly embarrassing to look at. Weak. Splintering. The image of cracks growing and spreading through a pane of glass would not go away.

"I'm glad it turned out for the best, when so many of us left. We are not needed. You are right, Kuchiki-taichou. It is none of my business anymore."

She was finally agreeing with him. Acknowledging his position, speaking to him with polite formality… But none of it placated the hollowness in his chest. In fact, it stirred the stillness, whirring into a fluttery resonance akin to-

"No more demon cats will torment you! Heh, what a relief."

Anxiety. This was not what he wanted. After a hundred years, Kuchiki Byakuya was getting more than he could imagine, and it was worse than anything she had ever done to him. With every step, the increasing distance generated a persistent ache similar to a scaler scraping against his teeth. That shiny grin would no longer- How could she sound so cheerful?

"Not when I make you vanish… was your wish, yes? I- It's overdue, but- Happy Birthday, Byakuya-bo."

Stop. Stop being so gentle. _Stop it. You left. _That usually annoying honorific from her lips was infused with a kindness he could not bear. The possibility of being wrong… That, with all she had ever shared- If he was suffering second thoughts, what about her? His lungs were almost suffocating.

"Wait. What was the gift the wo- Kitten really wanted to give the boy?"

Blurry silhouette of the former tutor about to flash-step and vanish was halted. He could not see her face, and he was getting tired of her back. All she had given him, whenever he could finally see, was that dratted back. He wanted her to turn around. But she didn't. All he got was the minor shift of her head, providing the slightest access. What he glimpsed was an enviable mask.

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

Rigid shoulders slumping, she was still not yielding. But at least she had stopped moving. A butterfly fluttered haphazardly through the distance between them, wending left and right, up and down, as if unsure or taking pleasure in the erratic pathway it had chosen. It obviously detected no danger and meandered on its merry way, eventually leaving them behind. The silence stretched, letting unstable energy drip away into a neutral peace. She finally relented.

"Make him smile or laugh the way he used to. Before the burden of responsibilities, rank, appearance and perceived grievances took it away. But that's not possible, when the gift source is part of the cause. The hatred… I can't undo it."

Resignation in the intimately humbling tone was reminiscent of the time she had uttered Ukitake Juushiro's name on the bridge, while supporting an unconscious Kurosaki Ichigo. Byakuya eyed the clenched fist by her side, fingers so tightly curled that the knuckle was almost colourless. It was the only sign of discomfort, that she was not as undisturbed as he had assumed. And he nearly cursed himself. She had been born a noble of the four great houses and clan leader like himself, she would know. Being older than him, she too must have- He was starting to see her teasing and pranks in a different light. And in that part of his psyche he had not wanted to remember, she had been an example he detested but desired to emulate. From the very first moment little Byakuya had laid eyes on the grown-up princess of the house of godly gears, in all her formal regalia augmented with a demigoddess aura of strength and serenity… _Never let the enemy see your weakness. Appearance is important. The ability to laugh, even when you're in pain, requires strength. When you understand this, you will be able to make the most difficult decisions and live them. Never face backwards, look forward! Smile… Eh, no smile? Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you! Geez, the wind will freeze your face when it changes direction! Ahahahaha! _

What she said next confirmed his suspicions.

"It is not a crime to lean on others at times. Be a little more selfish. You are too young to wear bitterness like a cloak. Live long, and treasure the ability to laugh. My grandfather liked your smile."

Had she also liked his smile? Byakuya suddenly wanted to know. There was brittle weariness in uttered finality, laced with a sincerity respecting the distance between them. Her emotionless façade was wearing thin, and the thought that he might have wronged another unnecessarily was curdling his pride. This could not be allowed. Damn bossy, big-breasted women! Did they think they could dictate everything?

"Your arrogance is on par with mine, Shihouin Yoruichi."

Walking quietly towards his goal, he wielded carefully-chosen words like an incantation, more effective than any binding kidou. Stopping behind her and maintaining non-contact, his breath stirred random purple strands of hair. What time and space apart had given him was experience to reach out, courage to try reducing the gulf between them and perhaps, strength to acknowledge and close that gap. To restore- Alter the misunderstandings between them. With some revenge for all those times she had pricked his temper and made him suffer…

"Did you think that you could cut my pride with so dull an edge? You overestimate yourself, to surmise that you could induce hate. Silly woman."

Her left eyelid was starting to develop a tic. What was it with the speech mannerisms? Byakuya-bo was going to get a second lesson more brutal than a simple bowling over. Growing irritation was preferable to the brief flash of awareness that he might be standing closer to her than necessary, although a secondary train of thought hooted that shouting across a significant divide did not fit the Kuchiki image. And she unexpectedly had to restrain the urge to giggle.

"If you vanish permanently, who will I surpass? You're no longer a tutor. For that, I thank you. And for your mischief…"

Whisking away of the thick ribbon binding her ponytail made Yoruichi spin around. Before she could reclaim it or react to her own shock at his words, the sight of his right hand held out at waist level, turned on its side and fingers extended- Movement of his lips transformed the flat line. Flame-shaped eyes were no longer stiff with negativity, mirroring the sentiment softening his mouth. The gesture was unmistakable.

That sight was warm, creamy porridge pouring into the crevices of her heart, satiating it with relief and joy. _I did it, grandfather. One less debt left in Soul Society…_ So, he did possess a sense of humour. Better late than never. Grasping that hand, Yoruichi grinned. Her left hand shot up and out, as she prepared to disengage and retrieve her possession.

He was immediately flash-stepping to the right around her without letting go. At this rate, her arm would be twisted behind her back- Pivoting swiftly in the same direction, with her free hand prepared to poke him in a ticklish spot above the hip and make him let go, the abrupt jerk and clamp of his right arm threw her momentarily off-balance. Left hand left outstretched at waist level, Shihouin Yoruichi was confused. It was not the cloth covering his shoulder against her nose, but gentle pressure all around. The other hand remained trapped, and- And-

Red cotton tangled in his fingers, Byakuya let them rest on her back. Eyes closed, he was dizzy with the many subtleties realised from that smile. His right hand still occupied and pressed against his chest, he inclined his head, grateful she could not see his face. Grateful that in their many exchanges, she had refrained from going all out with her superior hakudou on most occasions to trample his pride. She could have easily broken free, if she wanted to. She could have easily refused to accommodate his demands. In terms of warmth, teasing and pranks and her approach was what he had taken too much to heart, without truly comprehending the layers and context. Now that she was treating him like an equal, the steel rod that governed his dislike was unbending. And the hardest words he despised using became a hoarse olive branch.

"I am sorry."

That simple apology disrupted Yoruichi's intention of knocking him out and taking him to Retsu for analysis of whether all the fighting with Ichigo had damaged his brain. The unmoving arm slowly drifted down to return his hug. It was comfortable, and comforting. Unspoken, the bond of friendship was agreed on. _My, my, Byakuya… You've really grown into a leader our grandfathers would be proud of. _But she couldn't say it, because it suddenly felt too embarrassingly… unsuitable to him. So to cover up the sudden awkwardness, she said something else.

"Thank you. You've truly… Now I can concentrate on Ichigo."

The fumbled compliment produced an unintended effect. The orange-haired shinigami -landing on the bridge in front of Rukia- had held a priceless Shihouin artifact that aided his intrusion. The boy Yoruichi had brutally punched into was then caught and carried so carefully, allowing his head to loll on her shoulder. The defiant young man had eventually stopped the Soukyouku, clad in the Shihouin skywalker cloak. Tossing it aside to fight him, mentions of Urahara Kisuke being his mentor had been annoying. The eighth and thirteenth-division captains destroying the Soukyouku with- Various instances reminding, highlighting, rubbing in the amazing amount of support his seniors had given, in so short a time of knowing that intruder- Provoked a rare spurt of fury he thought had been discarded with the foolishness of youth.

Now what? Was it something she had just said _again_? Tension beneath her fingers became apparent. Yoruichi was about to kick herself. How could she have forgotten- Amongst her most promising 'students' of Kaien, Soi Fong and Byakuya, there had been a certain frisson that kept all three from becoming friends. She had put it down to competitiveness of capability, as well as clashing personalities. However, in light of all the conclusive errors she had come to… So what was it? Not finishing her praise? Did he nurse a grudge against Ichigo, after all that had happened between the two shinigami over Rukia?

A headache was starting to manifest. She was beginning to understand the headaches her grandfather had experienced because of her impetuous youth.

On his part, no headaches were impending but Byakuya could not digest this impulse growing steadily in his chest. So she still saw him as inferior- And her focus still remained on Kurosaki Ichigo, the impudent hothead- _Why do you still hurt my pride_- Something darker, more vicious and unanticipated surged from nowhere, coupled with newly-unleashed emotions he was struggling to read. He wanted to be rid of this uncertainty. He wanted to hurt her. This felt embarrassingly like a second adolescence- Unsure of whether to let rebellious instinct take charge, he attempted to rein it in first.

"Shihouin Yoruichi, I am not your student. Stop talking down to me."

His grip had tightened, making Yoruichi acutely aware of a few things: The reduced layer of bandages still wrapped around his midsection. Subtle scent of cherry blossoms graced his clothes. Authoritative whisper in her ear stirred up a discomfortingly pleasant sensation. The shadow of her former student was tempered and enhanced by the man he had become. And in view of the natural height and reach advantages he possessed- But they had just repaired their bond, and it had been so long since another had held her, giving the impression of lending strength while allowing her to lean and weaken for once… Which she could not afford-

"Kuchiki Byakuya, release me n-" was the command while pulling away, but a polite retreat was prevented by the arm now around her waist. Her right hand was still pressed to his chest, but it was- Black eyes stared into hers, wrathful and bright. His gaze was too intent; his face too unnaturally calm. Abrupt release of her right hand was not noticed, given that his iron grip had temporarily reduced blood flow and feeling to those joints. _What the hell is_- The world became shrouded in billowing white cotton and green silk.

The pressure in his chest was not alleviated, which had now become too dense to contain. It was akin to being consumed by a hagfish from the inside out. A measure of sanity had returned, but the resultant intensity was almost painful. Desiring a solution, instinct finally wrested control. One hand rose, skin and curvature fitting into his palm. Details shrank away, leaving only- He wanted revenge, he wanted recognition, he wanted-

About to strike, Yoruichi felt the pressure easing. It happened so fast. Thumb caressing her cheek and tilting the head up, fingers over the ear and hair- Unmoving softness on her lips was disarmingly heartbreaking.

Why? Thought and motion froze, except for one last flicker hissing- _Despite the mischief and friction, why have you always refrained from demolishing him with your hakudou? _

That stabbed somewhere deep inside, ripping an unexpected wound. And automatically lashing out, she bit down.

A black-eyed gaze did not back off. Observing amber irises dilating in panic, satisfaction distracted from the pain of teeth in his lower lip. And closing his eyes, he followed her advice and became a little more selfish. He savoured his blood and her mouth.

Seeing those dark eyes closing… ignited terror all the way to her core. _Why! Why do you persist, even when- _Unspoken, his gentle silence cradled and calmed her. Inner resolve wavered. And in that faltering, became her undoing.

Nothing interrupted the moment, as two vastly different individuals found themselves a common goal. One hand moving up to rest on a broad shoulder, the other weaving through dark hair, the recipient pressed closer. And the aggressor willingly accommodated while pulling her ever closer, proving that in certain matters, he was more than her match. The lull immediately became fierce, mouths and hands hungry for more. Awareness expanded into greed, both pushing the very thin limits separating a man and a woman. Simple passion flared into desire. And desire exploded into danger.

With a sudden burst of violence, Yoruichi broke free. Skidding backwards, she could not steady trembling limbs. Wanting more, wanting to continue, of prolonging and furthering- It warred with the horror of lusting. Instinct was screaming incoherently. But she was now aware of disaster, which bore testimony as to how far her former student had changed. Mentally and emotionally vulnerable, she was not going to permit further weakening. But he might have other ideas.

Her retreat was cushioned by the man behind her. Gently bumping against his chest, she was quick to shift away. Even without touching her, he was a threat. And like a spinning top, the whip of his words drew her.

"It is a shame that you will not follow your own advice. Why do you stay away?"

Yoruichi could see the blood dotting his lips, taste the same traces of blood on her tongue. If she chose, it would be so easy to reach out and lick that off- But No. Kuchiki Byakuya must be insane, actually tr- Outrage warred with obfuscation. His next verbal missile pierced the fog.

"Is he worth it, so much so that you will not consider any other recourse?"

Despite solemn formality in speech, his tone was questionable. Now Yoruichi was the one embarrassed, unable to look squarely at him. What did he mean- She did not want to hurt him. Or Kisuke. She must stand firm. The struggle for stability resulted in clawing for distance and staying vague.

"It depends on where you stand, in asking such a question. Have you ever crossed swords with the one you speak of?"

_Why are you asking me something you know the answer to, Yoruichi? _"No."

She was now steadily assessing him, once again isolating herself and forcing them apart. "In combat, he is spirit personified of the principles he is willing to die for. If you wish to know the answer to your question, fight him. Otherwise…"

There was one thing she could do for Kuchiki Byakuya, by raising the bar. Should he ever choose to duel with her best friend for whatever reason, he would be ready. And if not, he would still be fulfilling his grandfather's wish. So once more, she demonstrated cruelty, even though she had strictly forbidden herself to use her skills (especially the deadlier techniques) unless necessary.

"When you can retaliate on par with **this**, I may reconsider."

Within seconds, the unbroken circular outline formerly created by Yamamoto Genryuusai's Ryuujin Jakka was ruined with a giant gash through it. And Kuchiki Byakuya had a much better understanding of her potential capability to interrupt a certain fight.

But before he could say anything else, she had vanished.

Scrunching up the red ribbon in his hand, one could not stop the bitter laughter. Perhaps tonight, he should toss aside all self-restraint, get drunk in his own bedroom and pass out. Just once, he would like to be able to stop analyzing everything that came his way, especially when she was obviously not sure whether she was coming or going. And he wasn't sure what the hell had just happened. Wait, it was better to head back to the fourth division headquarters, act compliant and self-sufficient and then get out.

Within seconds, the scorched landscape was abandoned once more, awaiting the eventual rise of the moon.


End file.
